


Cannoli & Chaos

by Hufflepuff_Sunflower



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baltimore, Dad!Billy, Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Gun Violence, Homelessness, Homophobic Language, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Italian Mafia, M/M, cannoli (this isn't a tag yet but should be)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hufflepuff_Sunflower/pseuds/Hufflepuff_Sunflower
Summary: A story of the mafia, little knights, and too many Italian desserts. When Steve comes to the rescue of an adorable knight in distress while working the gelato and pastry counter at a restaurant in Little Italy, it starts him on a path that leads through gun battles, adventure, heartbreak and...love? Will Steve, Robin & the party learn to live by the age old wisdom: take the gun, leave the cannoli?An modern AU that reimagines what the world might look like if Billy & Max moved to Baltimore to stay with a mafia-connected branch of the family instead of Hawkins.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Robin Buckley/Heather Holloway
Comments: 24
Kudos: 40





	1. The Adventure Begins

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, the upside down events of seasons 1-3 still happened, just with Tommy being possessed instead of Billy and the party not meeting mad Max (yet). I moved into the current modern world because I am limited in my 80s knowledge. This is my first ever fanfic and I’m looking for a beta so please keep criticism constructive and let me know if you like where this is heading. Literally this is the first creative writing I've done in about 10 years so please be gentle. I promise not to abandon this fic as that is one of my pet peeves. Will try to update weekly if not more frequently.

_Hell is wet socks_. Steve thought as he continued to trudge down Light St, dodging murky sidewalk puddles and distracted businessmen returning from lunch. 

The rain slowed to a drizzle but that didn’t stop the green line city bus from splashing him with a flood of rancid curb water as it barreled past, narrowly avoiding running him over as he went around a haphazard pile of construction materials that had taken over the sidewalk. Now, with pants and socks soaked through, Steve was both late for his shift at Bistro Mare’s and unfit to wait tables looking like a drowning victim. 

“Fucking great” he mumbled, trying to salvage his hair as he passed by a particularly reflective store front window. At 25, Steve took a lot less pride in his appearance than he had as the King of Hawkins High. No longer did he need to be immaculately styled and dressed in the latest fashion to feel worthy of being seen. It was hard to be fashion forward working for minimum wage in a city that’s air pollution left you feeling constantly covered in a thin layer of filth. 

With a lithe swimmer’s body and graceful facial structure that Dustin insisted on referring to as “elfin” or his least favorite “faerie like”, Steve hadn’t had many complaints about his looks through the years. He was always able to find an eager partner to go home with from the club or to buy him a drink. But now, staring at his reflection in the warped glass of a shop window that advertised the latest fashion for a life he could no longer afford to live, he felt the familiar cold tendrils of depression creeping back in. Who the hell did he think he was? Just some spoiled brat from the middle of nowhere, trying to fool everyone into thinking he belonged. That he was worth their time. Hell, he hadn’t even been worth his own parent’s time. The longest conversation he remembered having with his father in recent memory was the night he was unceremoniously dropped at college freshman year and told not to contact them again so long as he continued his “sinful lifestyle”. 

For 7 years, he had survived on his own. Barely. With school paid for through a combination of scholarships, student loans and work-study, he hadn’t had to starve or worry about where he was going to sleep like some of his classmates. But those debts had come due the minute he graduated and, without a solid full time job after graduation last year, Steve had fallen into a spiral of multiple part time jobs and long hours in the gig economy. He rented a room in an old rowhouse with 3 other tenants that hadn’t asked for a credit check. He had learned to sleep with the covers tucked under the mattress sides so that mice couldn’t crawl in to get warm while he slept. 

And what did he have to show for all that hard work and self-denial? This funhouse mirror reflection staring back at him. Pants soaked and ringed in mud from the gutter. A shirt that was 6 years old and had a rip in the collar until this morning when he sewed it back together after watching youtube tutorials. And his socks...they were _so wet_. The kind of wet that reminded him of tunnels and flower faced monsters. The kind of cold damp that still haunted him all the way across the county. Those nightmares had followed him to Baltimore, had chased away partners and roommates when they caused terrors in the night. No one liked waking up to screaming. No one understood why he kept a bat with nails under the bed...with the mice. 

A text tone sounded from his left pocket, pulling him out of his downward mental spiral with a shudder. 

Robin_The_Great: Where the hell are you Steve? Ur ass was supposed to clock in for prep @ 3. 

KingSteve: I’m fucking coming alrt? Got nearly killed by a bus & i’m running now. Stall 4 me.

Robin_The_Great: Fine. But U owe me. U kno how much I hate talking to Marcel. I’ll stall 4 U but only today.

KingSteve: Marry me

HeatherTogether: She respectfully declines *kiss*

Robin_The_Great: Awwww babe *kiss* ;)

KingSteve: Can U fucking save it 4 when i’m not almost dead? I’m only a few blocks from Little Italy.

HeatherTogether: But did u die tho? 

Robin_The_Great: Ok, gonna go distract Marcel w/ my napkin karate

HeatherTogether:...What?

KingSteve: ur napkin who now? Robin, no

Robin_The_Great: Robin, yes. 

Stowing his phone, Steve jogged the last 6 blocks and skidded into the back door at Bistro Mare via an alley that had remarkably few visible rats for this time of the afternoon. Wiping his feet on the mat, he crept as quietly as possible past the back office and line cooks prepping for the dinner rush. Across the main dining room, Steve made eye contact with Robin who appeared to be miming some sort of karate chop into a tower of napkin-rolled silverware. Something in her expression must have changed because Marcel started to turn around. 

Skills honed by years of basketball and skulking around with monster fighting preteens, Steve dove behind the alcove made by the intersecting coffee bar & dessert case just in time to avoid detection. 

“But Marcel!” Robin picked up two napkin bundles from the pile and began to wield them like nunchucks, pulling their manager’s attention back to her “Don’t you think guests would appreciate dinner and a show? We could even fold the napkins into different kinds of weapons! Who wouldn’t want to start dinner with an artfully designed mace or a crossbow napkin waiting for them? Oh!”

She seemed to get genuinely excited by her new idea and hopped up and down a bit “or we could maybe include fictional weapons too!! I know if I spend some time on it I could make napkin Bat’leth’s like Klingons have on star trek and we could..”

“ROBIN” Marcel shouted before taking a deep breath “We are not going to change our current place settings….and even if we did, we certainly wouldn’t want our customers to be battle ready for heaven’s sake. Whatever happened to nice bishop’s caps and flowers and swans? A nice young woman like yourself shouldn’t be so obsessed with violence…it isn’t ladylike” He patted her arm sympathetically. 

Even crouched down, viewing the interaction from between espresso machines, Steve knew Marcel was on dangerous ground. Wanting to diffuse the situation before Robin pulled out the ninja throwing star he knew was perpetually in her back pocket and showed Marcel just how “unladylike” she could be, Steve knocked over a bag of french roast and stood up quickly. 

“There it is!” He held the bag aloft “I knew we had another bag of Zeke’s french roast down here. I told you Robin”

Peering around a shocked Marcel, Robin gave a thumbs up. “Yeah, I guess I was wrong about how many bags we had in stock. Whew, good to know no one will go uncaffeinated tonight!”

“How...where? Were you there this whole time??” Marcel huffed as he walked to stand a bit too close for Steve’s comfort. 

“Yeah, been here for a while. Oh, shoot! I forgot to clock in. Let me go handle that right now” Steve snapped finger guns in Marcel’s direction and walked to the computer. 

This proved to be a tactical error as his gutter soaked pants and shoes came into view. 

“Mr. Harrington!” Marcel gasped, actually clutching his heart like the drama queen he was. “How can you expect to serve our esteemed customers in those clothes? They are not fit to be seen! We have standards at Bistro Mare Steven, and those pants are just not acceptable.” Marcel’s most-likely-fake italian accent wiggled a little on the last sentence, exasperation evident as he rubbed his eyes as if that would magically change the fashion disaster in front of him. 

Sensing an easy out, Steve put on his most innocent expression and let out a shocked sounding “Why Marcel, are you suggesting I take my pants off? But, I don’t have anything else to wear. I would be…” Steve stage whispered the last word like it was a secret between just the two of them “naked”. 

A flustered Marcel began to sputter and wave his hands about, not too dissimilar to Robin’s latest napkin karate demonstration. “I….that...you know I didn’t….what are you…”

“Relax Mark,” Robin swooped in to the rescue, wrapping an arm around Steve as if to comfort him “of course that isn’t what you meant to say to your young, impressionable employee. No, Steve will just have to be on coffee and dessert duty tonight. He can even start with handling take-out orders for the rest of the afternoon...since he’s already standing here behind the bar. No one will have to see anything _below his waist_ ”. She gestured with a sweeping hand as if to display the offending area of his body. 

Steve suppressed a snort at the dramatic bullshit his best friend was currently spouting but did give Robin’s side a pinch at the suggestion he handle take-out. It was always a nightmare on Friday nights and meant also scooping the freezing cold, sticky gelato that tourists always took ages trying to order. 

Marcel seemed to calm a bit at Robin’s theatrics. “Yes, that is a good compromise. No need to get worked up over something so simply solved. Yes. Good.” He nodded and turned to walk towards the back office, throwing a disgusted “and you know it's _Marcel...not Mark_ ” over his shoulder as he beat a hasty retreat. 

When the coast was clear, Steve rounded on Robin “What the hell? I hate doing the dessert case and you know take-out is a nightmare when Sammy is working. I swear that man won’t send spaghetti out the door unless every noodle is the same damn length and the sauce blessed by the friggin pope. Tonight is going to suck”. 

“Oh my sweet child” Robin smiled and squeezed Steve’s cheeks like an overly affectionate grandma. “It was already going to suck...you’ve got wet socks.”

 _Fuck my life_. Steven thought as he started prepping the gelato to-go cups and cannoli filling. 

___________________________________________________________________

Two blocks from Bistro Mare’s, a man with a bloody stump where his ring finger used to be was begging for his life. 

“No! No, please. Ask Hargrove, please. You have to give me more time.” Blood-thickened spit trickled down his bruised chin as he stammered. “I’ll pay it back. I can pay it back. Please. Go ask him. Just give..”

“That isn’t how this works Silas” a voice echoed from the doorway. 

“Mr. Hargrove…please. You know I’m good for it. I can pay” Silas pleaded. This latest round of begging sent him into a coughing fit which only ended when a tooth fell from between his split lips. Another casualty of the beating that preceded this afternoon’s “negotiations”. 

“Do I know that Silas?” Billy Hargrove stepped more fully into the room, coming to circle the chair where Silas sat duct taped to the back and bound at the ankles. “I don’t think I do know that you can pay back what you owe. Jacob, what does Mr. Silas here owe us again?” 

“35K boss” offered the man who had gleefully started to twirl the blood stained knife across his knuckles. “He owes us 15K for the original loan for his chop shop and another 20K in interest since we extended it after the passing of his dear wife in July. God rest her soul” Jacob made the sign of the cross, using a hand still sticky with his Silas’ blood. 

The restrained man paled and turned his eyes to the floor. “I can pay it Mr. Hargrove. I promise. I just need more time. Another 6 months. That’s all. I promise”. 

Cold blue eyes dropped level with Silas’ as Billy bent over the bound man. Whispering in his ear, Billy started to chuckle. “Silas, I know you can pay me. I just don’t think you want to. I think you want to bet on horses down at Pimlico. I’ve got a man in the office there and he has this pesky...little...tape...recording” Billy tapped Silas’ nose with each of the emphasized words “of you last saturday, betting the rent money on a horse”. 

Silas started to cry. 

“Now”, Billy pulled back from his looming position and slapped Silas hard across the face. “Tell me how a man who can’t pay his debts finds money to bet on horses?”

“Please, I have a gambling problem. But I’ll get help for it. I promise” 

“A good start Mr. Perkins, a very good start. For another 5K interest, I will let you have 2 more months.” Billy started to turn away from Silas, walking a few steps to where Jacob held out an iphone as if to show Billy a photo. A low growl. A nod. A small laugh. Then Billy turned back to Silas Perkins, who looked relieved at the offer of more time. 

“Thank you Mr. Hargrove” Silas spit out, “I’ll make good on it, you know I will”.

No one else in the room moved or even dared to breathe. They’d seen the pictures, they’d worked with Billy since he took over the operation from his great uncle 5 years ago. They knew what was coming. 

“Silas” Billy whispered, stalking over to where the man sat still bound, “how is your daughter? Emily isn’t it?”

Silas looked visibly confused. “Emily? She’s fine. She’s in 8th grade now. I just saw her this weekend”

Billy put the phone up to Silas’ face and scrolled through the candid shots of his daughter, taken from a distance. “Then care to explain why Emily, who in fact is in 10th grade, had a black eye yesterday? Was that your doing Silas? Hmm? Had to keep her in line?” Billy smiled like he was letting Silas in on a joke, like he’s all buddy buddy now. 

“Yeah, you know how it is.” Silas postured, trying to sit up as far as he was able while still tied to the chair. “They get mouthy at that age. She wanted to tell her grandma where we went that weekend. You know it was the race track. She likes horses, ok? But I’m not going to let that little bitch think she can boss me around, you know? You’re a man in charge. You know what I mean. Bitches can’t start thinking they own us”. 

“Sure, Silas” Billy noded, going for the gun he had concealed beneath his bomber jacket. “I know exactly what you are trying to say.”

Feeling emboldened by the building camaraderie between them, Silas saw an opening and took it. “You know...Emily is a fine looking girl. I mean, you must have thought so too to have one of your boys follow her around with a camera. She’s mouthy but, that’s part of the fun isn’t it? Fiery redhead like that. She’ll be 16 this year. How about I set up a little time for you to meet her? Say, for an extra 2 months without interest? She really is a good girl. Does anything you…”

BANG 

The shot rang through the warehouse like at thunderclap, surprising no one but the man whose head was now lying in steaming pieces across the floor. 

“Thank fuck for that” Jacob sighed and slow clapped “Billy, you let that sick fuck talk longer than I thought you would. I lost 20 bucks to Jimmy here. Thought for sure you’d cap him the moment you saw the photos.” 

Billy wasn’t in the mood for joking.He didn’t like the memories the now orphaned redhead stirred up. “Clean this up and dump him at the construction on Wolfe St. I’ve got a guy laying the foundation for that new high rise apartment that owes me a favor. Call it in.”

“You got it boss” a disgruntled Jimmy slid Jacob 20 bucks before starting to cut Silas’ body from the chair.

As Billy walked through the warehouse door and stepped into the sunlight, the man who had been standing guard outside caught his attention “Do we send the usual flowers to the funeral?”

“Yeah” Billy lit up a cigarette and took a few long drags before continuing “but, Darius, add 10K and do your usual fucking ‘workplace life insurance’ bullshit or whatever you do. His girl’s in fucking science club. She’s gonna need a telescope or space camp or some shit.”

“Sure thing boss”, Darius nodded and pulled out his phone to start working on it.  
Alone now, with the streetlights starting to turn on around him, Billy tried to relax his face into a smile as he walked to the luxury SUV he had left idling with his chauffeur an hour ago. 

As he neared the SUV, Billy felt like something was off. Something was wrong. Dread injecting into his veins like ice, he ripped open the already cracked backdoor only to find the backseat empty. Crayons were strewn across the bench seat and papers sat discarded on the floor, crunched into the carpet by dirty shoe prints. Little shoe prints. 

Going around to the front seat, Billy reached through the open driver’s side window and started to choke the sleeping driver. 

“WHERE THE FUCK” He bellowed, pulling the negligent driver half out the window with his forcefulness “IS MY SON?”

_______________________________________________________________________ 

_I’m on a quest. Just like in my stories._

Today was shaping up to be a grand adventure for 6 year old Jamie Hargrove. Despite the rain and cold, he told himself he wasn’t turning back this time. When Miss Meredith couldn’t come play this afternoon because she got the flu, Jamie had known his day was ruined. No amount of playing trucks with Leia and Ned during free time would make this better. He was destined to waste away in that backseat for hours while his father “handled business”. 

_He always says to wait in the car but I’m TIRED of waiting in the car. I’m a knight and I don’t wait in cars!_

Ugh. Adults were so boring. So he had formed a plan and waited to put it into action. 

After sneaking away when Mr. Marcony predictably fell asleep, Jamie had started walking in the direction of the bright red and green lights that looked like flags. Mesmerized by the twinkling lights strung between buildings and over balconies, he crossed into the Little Italy neighborhood and smiled to himself. Of course this was the right direction to start his adventure. 

_Faeries always send lights to help brave knights on their quests._


	2. Bridge Trolls & Faeries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry, boss.” the red faced flunky spluttered, holding an ice pack to his still-bleeding forehead and leaning against a dirty car tire. He narrowly dodged the kick that came flying at him. 
> 
> “Hold up, Billy,” Darius chastised, physically pulling an enraged Billy back from creating further damage. “Let the fucker speak. Tell us one more time, Marconi. When did you last remember the kid being in the car?”
> 
> “He...He was there when they did the 5:30 traffic.” Nodding to himself, Marconi continued, “I remember because they did a thing on the light rail and he wouldn’t shut u….I mean, he seemed especially interested in the trains, sir.”
> 
>  _5:30_. For Christ’s sake. 
> 
> “Well it's goddamn quarter past 7 now,” Billy growled out, shaking off Darius’ attempt at calming him. “So that’s at least an hour, maybe more that the kid has been out there, ALONE.”

“I’m sorry, boss.” the red faced flunky spluttered, holding an ice pack to his still-bleeding forehead and leaning against a dirty car tire. He narrowly dodged the kick that came flying at him. 

“Hold up, Billy,” Darius chastised, physically pulling an enraged Billy back from creating further damage. “Let the fucker speak. Tell us one more time, Marconi. When did you last remember the kid being in the car?”

“He...He was there when they did the 5:30 traffic.” Nodding to himself, Marconi continued, “I remember because they did a thing on the light rail and he wouldn’t shut u….I mean, he seemed especially interested in the trains, sir.”

 _5:30_. For Christ’s sake. 

“Well it's goddamn quarter past 7 now,” Billy growled out, shaking off Darius’ attempt at calming him. “So that’s at least an hour, maybe more that the kid has been out there, ALONE.”

“Yeah, and not to freak any of yous out,”, Jacob came around the SUV holding up a spiderman backpack. “But his kiddie phone and jacket are both in here. Don’t look like he took anything with him.”

Billy crouched down eye level with Marconi. “I swear on my mother’s grave, if that kid has a single curl out of place, I will personally see to it that your body is chopped off starting at the toes and sunk in the harbor while you watch and pray to bleed out.”

“Now,” he got to his feet and motioned to Darius, “get the crew on the phone and send out a search party. I want a grid sweep of the whole fucking lower city and any security footage you can get.”

“Already started, boss,” said his second in command, “and Nicky’s on his way here down Fleet St. He knows to keep an eye out.”

“God help us then!” Jacob laughed, Jersey accent in full swing. “Your sister’s kid’s more likely to set the whole goddamn block on fire than find anyone.”

“Ay, fuck you! It was his first day and they put the food truck out eventually, jackass.” Darius turned to Billy. “You said you’d give him a trial period, Boss... Boss?” 

Billy was already about 30 yards away, headed towards the street with Jamie’s backpack in hand. “Just shut up and start searching.” 

\----  
_Meanwhile_

“Hi, welcome to Bistro Mare.” Steve set down the pastry piping bag & flashed his best customer service smile at the man with the pornstache who had been circling the gelato case like a shark for the past 5 minutes. “Would you like to order some gelato or maybe some pastry to-go?”

“Give me a scoop of Chunky Monkey.” 

Steve wished he worked somewhere, _anywhere_ else. “Sorry, sir, that is a Ben and Jerry’s flavor. We have more traditional gelato flavors like lemon or pistachio...the flavors are listed on the board...in front of you”

“I don’t like pistachio,” Pornstache huffed out. “What about moose tracks? You got that?”

An exceedingly overdressed woman with two bickering children trailing behind her like disinterested ducklings exited the restrooms and sidled up to Mr. Stache.

“Oh, honey! Is this the place where they sing for you?” She chirped, clapping her hands in what Steve could only assume had been a mildly endearing way in her younger years. 

“No, Ma’am.” _Holy fuck, this is worse than working at Scoops ever was_. “That’s Cold Stone. This is Bistro Mare. We don’t sing...or have moose tracks. But we do also have pastries. Have you looked at the display case? We have cream puffs, cassatelle, amaretti cookies, that umm...big cinnamon twisty thing that I can’t remember the name of right now but I promise is delicious.” Steve listed while pointing them out in the case. 

He then gestured to the serving tray, bowl and piping bag in his hands “I’m finishing up filling our double chocolate cannoli right now too, if you want to wait on that.” 

“So nothing good then? No choco-tacos?” 

_Did I say we had choco-tacos? Why the hell would we serve choco-tacos?_

“Sir,” Steve said calmly, resisted the urge to beat his head on the counter, “we are an italian bistro…” A throat cleared behind the family and Steve saw a familiar head of purple highlights come into view as she popped around Mrs. Stache. 

“Excuse me, can I just see the display case? Oh! Thank god! They have some pizzelle left!” Heather gasped dramatically.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Steve said, nodding, “but you will have to wait your turn. I’m serving these fine customers right now.”

Mr. Pornstach, spurred by what he saw as competition, slapped twenty bucks on the counter. “We’ll take the pizzelle! Box it to go. We don’t have all night.”

Heather winked as Steve boxed up the dozen cookies and handed it to the man, whose eyes gleamed like a starving ferret who had just caught a juicy mouse as he hurried his family out the door.

“You are ridiculous.” Steve tossed a freshly filled cannoli to his friend and occasional Mario Kart nemesis. “You know those damn flat cookies taste like cardboard. We never sell the pizzelle.”

“Exactly,” Heather grinned, a huge bite of cannoli crammed into her cheek, “and I’m tired of Robin bringing home all the stale ones. I need variety. I need flavor.”

“You _need_ to stop being so picky about free food,” Robin chimed in, walking around Steve to hug her girlfriend. Steve did not miss the to-go bag she slipped into the other girl’s hands. 

“Thanks, babe.” Heather said, eyeing the bag dubiously. “Um… what is it tonight?”

“Fettuccine alla Buckley.” Robin drawled in her best Italian impression.

“That...that’s just noodles isn’t it?” Steve laughed quietly, trying not to draw the attention of the latest tourist family to wander in off the street. 

Instantly deflating, Robin curled into Heather’s shoulder and mumbled “Sammy guards the sauces really well, ok! This was the best I could do. There is an artichoke in there too...somewhere.” 

“And that sounds _amazing_ , babe.” Heather kissed Robin’s head and threw a side eye at Steve. “No one likes a smartass, your majesty.” She pulled a wad of green and pink out of her pocket and launched it at steve. “She mentioned you were bitching about your wet socks. I’ll expect those back _clean_.”

The bundle landed directly in a bowl of edible gold glitter Steve had planned to use for decorating the dark chocolate dipped biscotti and tonight’s cannoli selection to give them extra sex appeal. Even Marcel agreed the gold looked amazing on the chocolate. 

“Shit, sorry!” Heather winced.

Dumping the remaining bowl of gold decorating sugar, Steve found himself holding two neon knee high socks, which when unrolled spew even more glitter down his front. “Thanks Heth. Not my usual style but I appreciate it. I’ll switch them out on my next bathroom break.”

Leaving his friends to their cuddles and goodbyes, Steve turned back to where he had been piping cannoli filling into chocolate shells. It was mindless, repetitive work but Steve didn’t mind it. Fill the shells. Dip the ends in chocolate curls, pistachios or just a squeeze of lemon if it was meant to be more simple. There was a kind of artistry in it. While he hated manning the counter, working on assembling the pastries was generally the best part of working at Bistro Mare. If you cracked a cannoli shell or overfilled a cassatelle before frying...no one died. You just tossed it to one of the always-hungry busboys and started again. 

He added a final dusting of new glitter sugar to the now finished double-chocolate cannoli and sighed. _Maybe I should do some culinary classes. Still haven’t found anyone willing to hire a psych major with a shitty GPA and occasional hallucinations._

This line of thinking never led anywhere good. He could hear the echo of his father’s disappointment when he had first told his parents what he wanted to major in. “Of course you’d go for the touchy-feely bullshit. You’re too stupid for business Steven, but you could at least major in something real? No...no...honey. He needs to hear this… Fine, if the boy wants to work with retards and other queers, then let him.” 

_Stop. Breathe in. Hold it. Breathe out. They aren’t your problem anymore._

Steve set the display plate in the case and pulled out his phone.

 **Steve:** I need emotional support memes. 

**Henderson:** [[image of a kitten riding a slice of pizza through space that reads “Believe in yourself”]] 

**Steve:** where the fuck do u even find these?

 **Henderson:** I’d tell u but then I’d have to kill u…

 **WillTheWise:** Did someone hit a trigger? Drop a dish or something?

 **Steve:** No, nothing like that. Just. Dad stuff.

 **Henderson:** I say this from the bottom of my heart. Wait...let me go get to a better spot. 

**Lucas:** Steve! Don’t interrupt our study session. I told dustin to turn off his phone but he didn’t listen...why is he climbing on the table?

 **Steve:** What?

 **WillTheWise:** [[attached video of Dustin standing on a library table and cupping his hands around his mouth. “Attention fellow Hopkins library patrons and sleeping randos who have successfully avoided security. Attention. I would just like to say, from the bottom of my heart...FUCK STEVE’S DAD! He’s a homophobic asshole and Steve is better off without that bullshit in his life!” The video pans to show a mix of confused but cheering faces and one bedraggled older man who shot awake at the noise only to belatedly join the clapping. “Thank you! That is all. As you were, citizens.”]]

 **Steve:** WHAT the FUCK henderson? ur going to get yourself kicked out for that shit! They won’t let u play with robots if u get expelled.

 **Henderson:** Chill out mom! 1. no one is going to rat me out for being amazing. 2. even if someone did complain, I’m dating the library assistant

 **WillTheWise:** aww, Susie signed up for another year? 

**Lucas:** YES free printing. ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

 **Henderson:** Yep, so let someone complain...I like when she puts me in timeout ;)

 **Steve:** *drinks unsee juice* Do not need that in my head henderson.

 **Lucas:** and we don’t _play_ with robots Steve, we are doing research with them. Important research. You don’t just walk into the applied physics laboratory at Johns Hopkins and say “can we play with robots please.”

 **WillTheWise:** Actually, I read ur scholarship application Lucas & I’m pretty sure it said basically that but with more words. Plus, last week u & dustin tried to race them.

 **Lucas:** ...see who risks life and limb on North Ave to bring u lunch tomorrow.

 **WillTheWise:** nooooooo. I’m sorry. Pls still bring me food. I’m trapped in Life Drawing for hours. 

**Lucas:** ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **WillTheWise:** should have haunted u when I had the chance

Mood sufficiently lifted, Steve started prepping to decorate a now-cooled pan of biscotti. As a new group of diners came in the front door, a small cry floated in off the street, barely audible against the noise of traffic. The other patrons didn’t bat an eye at the sound, but he’d spent too much time watching after kids who attract mortal peril like magnets to miss it.

“I’m taking my break!” Steve shouted to Marcel, stepping out the door before he could say no. 

As he strained his ears --ignoring the familiar panic that rose up at the idea of listening for a distressed sound in the dark-- he tried to pinpoint where the noise had come from. 

“NO!” a small voice rang out, coming from the direction of the overpass about a few blocks away. Steve broke into an immediate sprint. The voice again pierced the air,“Let me GO!”

He vaulted over a pile of garbage bags and skidded to a stop in front of what appeared to be a child tussling with a man wrapped in a sleeping bag. 

“Man, let him go.” Steve dropped down to where the kid was held by his ankle. “He’s just a kid!”

“YOU’RE NOT TAKING ME AGAIN!” the chaotic man ranted, body coming fully out of the sleeping bag. “You fuckers always come at night.”

The kid started to kick harder as Steve tried to untangle him. “Kid, stop. I’m helping you.” He whispered before turning to face the yelling man and pitching his voice as calmly as he could. “Sir...you’re in Baltimore. It’s Tuesday the 5th. It’s November. I think this kid startled you but he’s like 4 years old. He can’t hurt you. But you’re scaring him.” 

“...what?” Steve felt the man’s grip loosen on the kid’s pant’s leg. “Where did they go? Thomas!? TOM. Where are you?” 

“My...my name isn’t Thomas” The kid said quietly through his tears. “I’m Jamie...I don’t know a Thomas, but...” The kid seemed to puzzle over something for a few seconds. “...I do have a friend named Ned. I’d feel bad if he left me during nap time too.”

The man on the street seemed to crumple in on himself, fully releasing Jamie’s leg and starting to pull his arms and legs closer together. 

_Making a smaller target maybe? God, am I this bad when my mind takes me back in those tunnels again?_

Steve pulled Jamie behind him a few yards and gestured for him to stay right there. “Don’t worry kid, he’s just...he’s just waking up from a bad dream. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

Steve walked a bit closer to the man who was now rocking back and forth slightly as though trying to drown out sights and sounds only he could sense. 

“Hey, umm, look.” Steve tried to organize his thoughts as he approached. “I work at Bistro Mare a few blocks away. Big blue sign over the door. Look, if you come by at closing around 1, we always have extra noodles and..stuff. Ask for steve at the backdoor.”

“Fuck you.” Floated up from the curb. 

“Hey, yeah. Sorry. That’s fair. I just...” Steve sighed and turned to go“...I get stuck back with my monsters sometimes too. That shit doesn’t go away”

All he gets is a nod. It's more than he hoped for. 

“Come on kid,” Steve smiles wearily, coming back to where he left the boy standing. _Who the hell let this kid out by himself?_ He took stock of the boy’s appearance. Spider-Man shirt, muddy corduroys, one shoe missing. “Where’s your other shoe?”

“Um….I threw it.”

“You threw it?”

“I needed a distraction to get past the palace guards.” the boy smiled, as though this was a completely normal conversation. 

Used to the adventuring antics of the party, Steve played along. “...and why did you need to sneak past the guards?”

“So I could get to the bridge and ask for a riddle!” Jamie smiled, pointing to the darkened underpass they were putting farther in the distance with each step. 

“Jamie...you told him that’s your name right?” Steve clarified. A nod came in reply. “Ok, Jamie...My name is Steve.” 

“Hi, Steve!”

_Can you believe this kid?_

“Hi Jamie...now, tell me you didn’t wake that poor man up just so he could tell you a riddle.” 

_Please, god, if you’re there...I don’t need another disaster prone nerd. I really don’t_.

“Of course! I wasn't doing very well on my quest so I thought if I solved a riddle from the troll under the bridge, I might get to be a knight faster.” Jamie clapped excitedly, “and it worked!..well, he didn’t have a riddle...and I’m not sure he was a troll...I think he was maybe just sad about his friend not being there, but you’re here now! So you can play with me next time if you want. You’ll have to ask my dad if you can come over, though.”

Steve smiled, continuing to play along. “Sure kid...but maybe next time we can play knights somewhere less... near a highway. Where’s your adult?” 

“Dad’s right over...” Jamie looked around as if for the first time realizing he was absolutely nowhere a child should be this time of night. “...he was working in a big building with those doors that roll up? It was right there. I didn’t go far. I..” Steve could hear the kid start to breathe faster and realized they might be on the verge of a melt down if he didn’t redirect soon. 

“Don’t worry, kid.” Steve barely resisted the urge to ruffle the kid’s curly hair. _He looks like a mini-henderson with those curls._ “We’ll find your dad. Do you know his number?”

“Yeah! It's in my phone!”

“Awesome...where’s your phone”

“oh…”Jamie’s bottom lip started to tremble. “I left it”

Steve nodded, “and I bet you also left you coat? You must be freezing. That’s rule #1 of going on adventures, kid. Brave knights always need a well packed bag for emergencies. Are you hungry?”

A shy blush krept over the kid’s face. “Not really...I had some hotdogs from this nice lady before it got dark. Did you know some people get to push around whole bins of hotdogs for a job? She even had ketchup! In her pocket!”

Steve tried not to laugh. He really did. “Wow...then I guess you’re ready for dessert then, huh? Or are you too full from all those hotdogs? Let’s go back to the restaurant I work at and see if we can call your dad, ok? I was just finishing up a batch of cookies.”

“COOKIES?” Jamie shrieked, grabbing Steve’s hands and starting to pull. “Where? Can we go?”

“Jesus, Jamie. You’re just going to take my word for it? Kid, that isn’t safe. You can’t just follow people who promise you cookies. I could be lying to you.” Steve realized afterwards that this wouldn’t help him corral the kid back to safety, but for fuck’s sake, who was raising this kid?

“You can’t lie silly!” Jamie rolled his eyes and looked at Steve like he was a simpleton.  
Faeries have to tell the truth.” 

_Definitely a mini-henderson. God forbid they ever meet_. 

“Kid, I’m not a faerie, those aren’t rea-” he watched as the kid’s eyes started to go red and puffy. _Oh shit._ “I mean, those aren’t _reeaaaally_ the type of creature that lives in a big city like this. They tend to stick to the Feywild and like...forests. Lots of moss and mushrooms and stuff, right?” Steve hoped he had remembered the “lore” (as Henderson called it) correctly, but either way it put a tentative smile back on the kid’s face. 

“Sorry to disappoint. I’m just a normal human. But...I am a friend. And the coolest sorceress I ever met always says that ‘friends don’t lie.’ So, come on,” Steve extended a hand for the kid to take again, “let’s go get you someplace warm.” 

Jamie chattered away about his adventure as they walked back toward Bistro Mare. Something about following lights and faeries and trying to not wake up a fire-breathing dragon? Steve wasn’t going to think too hard about how close to harm the kid had come tonight.

“Hey, Mr. Steve!” 

“Yeah, kid?”

“If you’re not a faerie...um, then why are you glittery and wearing stripy socks?”

 _Sigh..._

\---

“Boss, we found a shoe.” 

Billy had heard a lot of scary shit in his time on earth, but that sentence made his blood run colder than even the most violent interrogation session. 

“Red & blue with stars, size...fuck...its worn off the bottom”. Jimmy huffed out, voice sounding out of breath and slightly mechanical coming through Billy’s cell phone.

“Where?”

“Fawn & Exeter, near the bridge”

_Fuck. That’s almost 2 miles from the goddamn warehouse._

“Call more of the crew in to search Little Italy then.” 

“You got it, boss.” The call disconnected 

_Fuck. FUCK!_

Billy turned on his heel and stalked down the alley to his left. Unleashing his anger in a flurry of kicks and curses to the dumpster, he let his mind speed past all the painful, messy things that could happen to a little boy alone in this city. Jamie was just too goddamn good and sweet to realize that most people were hateful sons of bitches who’d step over your corpse before they’d inconvenience themselves. 

He’d raised him to not be afraid of people because he just couldn’t stand the thought of his son going to bed scared. Couldn’t stomach the idea of that innocence growing hard and cold when he realized all the knights and magic were long gone. Besides, Billy was one scary motherfucker. He could keep the money coming in and be bloodthirsty enough for the both of them. Let his son have dreams and silly ideas. He’d happily play the dragon if that meant Jamie could stay as soft and protected as one of his fucking fairytale princesses. 

Another beep signaled an incoming call. 

“Tell me good news, Jake.”

“I’m talking to some homeless that said he seen a boy about 20 minutes ago. Some guy walked off with him. Said he heard him promise the kid a fucking cookie.”

He was going to murder someone tonight. “What direction?”

He heard mumbling as though a hand was covering the microphone “The touristy part of Little Italy... says ‘Marie’s?’ Maybe he took him to someone named Marie?...it’s blue? Fuck if I know, Billy, this fucker ain’t talking anymore.” 

“Send it out and let them know shit needs to be solved now. I’m not leaving him with some pervert.”

He took off down Bank St. in the direction of those tacky ass christmas lights the Little Italy neighborhood kept up year-round to lure tourists to overpriced pasta. He’d always hated this part of the city. He might have inherited the family business from his great uncle but he’d be damned if he fed into some Godfather stereotype. Most people still thought of fat men in spatz and tailored suits when they pictured organized crime. Sure, they still had some investments in the old ways. Some favors owed in construction. Some yes-men working the docks that were quick with a tip-off about incoming shipments and bribed well enough to lose paperwork when necessary. 

Billy had bigger plans for the company. He wasn’t going to sit by sucking on cigars and playing the big man while the organization he’d sold his soul to acquire became obsolete. No, they’d adapt. He’d drag these fuckers into the 21st century by the nuts if he had to. 

His screen lit up with a text to the group channel from an unsaved number. It was a picture of a blue awning that says “Bistro Mare”. 

**Unsaved number:** Might have meant this. 

**Darius:** Good job Nick!

 **Billy:** Meet you there.  
\---

“If he vomits, you’re cleaning it up, Robin,” Steve huffed from where he stood making his fifteenth customer cappuccino of the night. “I’m not sure letting him have gelato is a good idea. He already had a biscotti.”

“Yeah, and he nearly chipped a baby tooth, idiot,” Robin pouted. “What kid likes biscotti? Let him have some fun while we wait for the cops to show.” 

She dished up a few sample cups of different flavors and brought it to the stool they had set up on the inside of the counter for Jamie to sit at while they waited. 

“You allergic to anything, little man?” Robin questioned, arranging the veritable gelato buffet in front of him. 

“Brussel sprouts.” 

Rob nodded sagely. “Me too.”

Now armed with a spoon, Jamie dug into his gelato with little care for the mess he was making. Distracted by the kid’s squeal of enjoyment as he scooped both leftover cannoli cream and chocolate gelato onto his spoon, no one noticed the shadow that fell over them. 

“And who is this?” Marcel seemed to materialize across the coffee bar from Steve, causing him to jump. Luckily, Steve was a world-class bullshitter. 

“You don’t know?” Steve finally gave into the urge and ruffled the kid’s hair. _Yep, 100% mini-Henderson._. “This is the city ice cream inspector, Marcel! He’s got a sacred duty to perform.”

“What?”

Leaning into Marcel’s space and hiding his mouth with a hand, Steve whispered, “Found him wandering outside. No way to call his dad. The cops should be here soon to help.”

“Well, Steven,” Marcel huffed out, walking up to where Jamie sat, “I must say I’m disappointed with how you’ve chosen to handle this.” 

_Oh shit. Marcel, please don’t be a dick in front of the kid._

“Marcel, I..”

“No, Steven. You tell me we have a city inspector in our establishment and here he sits,” Marcel gestured to Jamie’s gelato buffet, “without a beverage! It’s outrageous. Sir,” Jamie let out a giggle at being addressed so formally by the fussily dressed manager, “what can I get you to drink? Maybe some nice red wine?” 

Jamie laughed and shook his head

“No? Not a wine man? That’s a pity. How about coffee?” Another snort laugh from the boy. 

“No, you’re right. Wouldn’t want to distract your expert palette from sampling our finest gelato...how about some lemonade?” Bingo.

“Yes please!” Jamie tried to get his breathing back under control after his giggle fit.

“Of course sir.” Marcel smiled before barking out, “Robin!” 

The coward, who had been hiding crouched down behind Steve’s counter to avoid confrontation since Marcel appeared, snapped to attention and actually saluted their manager. “Sir, yes, sir. I’ll be right back with the lemonade!”

“ _Freshly squeezed_.” Marcel called after her as he gave a short bow in Jamie’s direction and walked hurriedly to where a waiter was trying to balance six plates of puttanesca on one arm. 

“I like it here,” Jamie smiled up at Steve, “he’s funny. And you’re nice. And this ice cream is so good! I don’t like this crunchy one though” He turned his little nose up at the offending scoop.

Steve swiped the small cup of hazelnut gelato and downed it like a shot. “Mmmm. More for me then!”

“Heyyy!” Jamie giggled.

The shadow was back, just as silent as the first time. “Hey Marcel, have you heard anything from...you’re not Marcel.”

The solid wall of muscle in front of him snatched a scarred hand over the counter and grabbed Jamie’s arm. “You’re in a lot of trouble, boy.”

Jamie let out a surprised whimper, coughing up some of the gelato he had been swallowing.

“What the heck, man. Keep your hands to yourself.” Steve rapped the fucker’s hand with an ice cream scoop and pushed his arm off. “You know this man Jamie?”

A small head shake and a quiet “no” were all Steve needed to hear. He pulled Jamie off the stool and tucked him under the coffee bar and out of this fucker’s line of sight. 

“Who the hell are you and why are you harassing my kid?”

“None of your fucking business, and that’s not your kid. I got to take him back to my boss before he kills someone. Now, bring him over here and let’s go.” The brute snapped his fingers impatiently.

 _Of all the infuriating motherfuckers._ Steve assessed the threat stood before him. Early 20s, built like a brick house, scar tissue on his hands and arms that looked like someone had tried to melt the skin away. _He looks like he could probably tear my head off without breaking a sweat. Well...better men, not to mention monsters, have tried._

“Nope. Sorry, he isn’t going with you. He doesn’t even know you. I’m not just going to let…” Steve barely dodged the punch that was thrown at his head. “FUCK. Calm down.”

Apparently Muscles did not feel like calming down. He dodged a few more punches and launched the metal scoop at the fucker’s head. 

“What’s the problem, Nick?” A newcomer shouted from the doorway, approaching quickly. 

“Pretty boy won’t give me the kid.”

“If you’d fucking listen, you fucking orc reject, I said I wouldn’t gi…” Steve found himself grabbed at the shirt collar and pulled bodily over the counter by the snarling newcomer. As his upper half scrapped painfully over a row of espresso cups, he scrambled desperately to grab the mostly-dull knife he had recently used to cut open the new bag of french roast.

 _Grab the knife, grab the knife. Grab the_ Sliding quickly over the bar, his hand wrapped around a small cylinder. _Fuck._ He had grabbed a cannoli from the display plate. _Goddamn it, Harrington_. 

Now fully hoisted up by the blond rage tornado, Steve started to panic. On the verge of losing it, he aimed the clutched cannoli at the man’s very blue eyes and punched with all his might. Pastry cream smeared across eerily familiar curls and bits of chocolate went up his opponent’s nose. The blue eyes narrowed slightly in disbelief before Steve was pushed backwards only to topple over, arms flailing for purchase. As he hit the front of the pastry case, Steve’s head whacked against a pile of stacked dessert plates that gave an ominous crack. 

Billy took a step towards the man with an apparent death wish now scrambling up the pastry case. 

“Dad, STOP! No!” He then started to register small feet and fists beating at his legs, “Leave Mr. Steve alone!!! I need him! He’s nice. HE’S NICE!” 

The sound of his son’s hyperventilation brought him out of his rage. He looked down to see Jamie still punching him with all his might, snot streaming down his red face. 

_“Dad, STOP.”_

How many times had the very idea his son would ever shout those words made him physically ill? How many nights had he gone to sleep just to find himself back to where Jamie was now? Tiny, helpless, and fighting furiously to stop an adult from raging out of control.

 _Fuck. You’re not your father. You’re not. You can fix this_.

“Okay, okay Jamie.” Billy crouched down and took his son’s flailing fists in his hands. “Stop. It’s done. Let’s breath in ok? Deep breath. Good. Ok, now out. Great. I was so worried about you, buddy. You just ran off and I didn’t know how to find you. You can’t do that to me.”

“I..I’m sorry.” Jamie sniffled, still trying to talk around tears. “I hate being in the car. I wanted to go on a quest. I was going to come back, honest. I...I just didn’t know how to get back”

“Why didn’t you come with Mr. Nick when he came to get you?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“I don’t think he ever met Nicky before, boss.” Jacob chimed in from where he was standing guarding the entrance. 

“I wasn’t going to just let him leave with some fucking stranger,” Steve coughed out, still leaning against the display case for support. 

“You ARE a stranger.” Billy shot back.

“Yeah, but I’m a _good_ one, asshat.” Steve stood to his full height, still a bit woozy. He felt his forehead and grumbled when his fingers came away red. 

“He’s a faerie dad!” Jamie offered helpfully. 

_Well, this is going well_.

Jacob’s gaze ran down Steve and stopped at his socks. A chuckle came, followed by, “thought they usually stick to farther up Charles street.”

Billy cut eyes at his enforcer. “We’ve talked about that shit, Jake.”

“Sorry, boss.”

Marcel’s voice rang out above the bickering. “Gentlemen! The authorities are on their way. Now, I suggest you wrap this family reunion up quickly before I have you removed from the premises…” at the sound of his voice, Billy turned to face Marcel, and the latter’s manner shifted. “Oh! Mr. Hargrove. My apologies...I hadn’t realized you were involved in this...event.”

“My apologies.” Billy smiled, putting his hands up in the best ‘aw shucks’ expression he could muster. “It seems we had a misunderstanding. I apologize to your patrons and will, of course, be paying everyone’s bill this evening….we may even have an event next month that needs catering.” Billy snapped in Jacob’s direction, “Go settle the bill and take this gentleman’s card so we can arrange for later...take Nick with you.” The last was said like a pissed off afterthought. 

Billy picked Jamie up and tried not to let his smile show when the kid nose dived into his neck and cuddled close. “Now, please explain how and why you are with my son...Mr. Steve, was it?”

While Steve filled Billy in on his son’s adventure, he tried valiantly not to take stock of how _attractive_ the other man looked holding the kid. Or how his eyes lit up indulgently everytime Jamie added something to the story. 

“Jamie even helped me make some cannoli cream. You added the chocolate chips, right kid?” Steve gestured to Billy’s hair, instantly regretting referencing the cannoli pieces still stuck to the side of the other man’s head. 

“Gelato inspector _and_ pastry chef huh? Sounds like quite the adventure.” Billy laughed and raised a finger to his hairline, pulling some of the lingering dessert to his mouth and groaning slightly at the taste. 

That shouldn’t have been hot. _Why is that hot? He’s clearly a crazy person. He nearly killed you 5 minutes ago_.

“Yeah, and he didn’t even tell you about the troll! Mr. Steve speaks troll.” Jamie piped up, completely oblivious to the adult direction Steve’s thoughts had turned. Billy turned confused eyes Steve’s way.

“You don’t want to know,” Steve laughed “but..umm, you really should emphasize stranger danger a bit more I think.” He passed over a damp cloth to wipe off the lingering evidence of their cannoli confrontation. 

“Yeah...he could meet some crazy person who throws dessert at people.” Billy winked, setting Jamie down. “Buddy, go use the bathroom so we can head home.”

“I didn’t just throw it. I was…” Steve hesitated, embarrassed now by his battle tactics. “I was actually hoping to blind you with it…”

“...blind me...with a cannoli?”

“I meant to grab the knife ok? Didn’t have a lot of time to plan it out. I haven't exactly blinded many people” Steve postured, trying to summon some shred of his former King of Hawkins persona. “We can go again if you want, asshole.” 

“Oh,” Billy gave a predatory smile, “bet a guy like you could go a few times.”

 _Oh. Wow. Umm._.

“STEVEN GERTRUDE HARRINGTON” Robin belted out, running to where Steve was trying to form coherent thoughts. “I go to the bathroom for FIVE MINUTES and you get in a fight with some feral motherfucker. Can’t believe I missed it! You have all the fun you lucky bitch!” 

Robin pulled some first aid ointment and a bandaid out of one of her many pockets and started smearing it on Steve’s forehead. “I just had to spend eternity ringing up all the customers on one damn ticket, guess the asshole is trying not to get arrested.”

“That...he...Gertrude isn’t actually my middle name.” Steve winced as Robin smacked the hello kitty bandaid on with more force than necessary, trying to figure out a way to seem less like an idiot in front of Jamie’s hot dad. 

As if noticing the blond’s presence for the first time, Robin scowled in his direction “Who are you?” 

“Billy Hargrove,” extending a hand to Robin, “The feral motherfucker.” 

Robin glared even harder, hand going for what was likely the throwing star in her back pocket. 

“Robin, this is Jamie’s dad. There was some confusion but it’s ok now.” Steve said calmly as Jamie came back to join them, wiping his hands on his pants. “Looks like they are heading home now.” 

“Yeah, we should get this one in bed.” Billy said, picking a yawning Jamie up and letting him collapse onto his shoulder. 

“Bye, kid.” Steve resisted the urge to lean in and ruffle his hair again. Barely. “It was nice to meet you and I wish you all the good luck on your next quest.”

Billy smiled as Jamie gave a small wave back at Steve. “I think we might need a break from quests for a while. But thank you for helping him. I’m…” Billy looked at the floor shamefaced, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I shouldn’t have lost my shi..ah, my temper like that. It just scared me so much when I couldn’t find him”. 

Steve nodded, feeling something empty and jagged come loose in his chest at the paternal affection so clearly displayed by the man in front of him. “Yeah, I mean… it wasn’t either of our best moments, but,” he sighed, “I get it. You look out for him. There are plenty of dads that wouldn’t have even realized he was gone.” 

“Yeah.” Billy gave a nod of understanding. “Well, thanks again. See you around, Steve.”

As Billy walked out, flanked by men who hadn’t seemed to bat an eye at taking his orders and footing what must have been at least a two thousand dollar tab, Steve tried to reconcile the loneliness he felt creeping in. 

He caught Robin sending an unmistakable ‘I’m watching you’ gesture as he closed the Bistro door. “Stop that,” he hissed, whacking her hand down. 

_What the hell have I gotten myself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know how you think this is shaping up! I have the chapters plotted and am working on a weekly update schedule :) You will meet the party more next chapter! Also, Bistro Mare (at least the pastry counter) is based on the very real Vaccaro's in Baltimore. If you're ever in town, be sure to stop by!


End file.
